The Perfect Candidate

Dear Reader,

Thank you for the time, thought, and imagination you clearly put into your application for the prestigious post of Junior Lecturer (Ass. Prof.) in Runeological Studies. I would like you to know that your application was quite marvellous in every respect.

However, I am sorry to tell you that your application has been not been successful on this occasion.

But in order for this to be a learning experience for you, perhaps you would care to listen in while I ring my preferred candidate?

Darren has put us on speakerphone – please try not to breathe too heavily.

The phone rings. A familiar voice answers.

‘Hello, dear JRR Jr. the Fourth’, I say. ‘It is I, Ada! A small post has come up at my institution and I immediately thought of you. How fondly I recall those many happy hours we spent together in the graduate common room playing gin rummy and Russian roulette! And how is your dear, dear great-great-grandfather?’

But the voice interrupts me, dear Reader, to tell me that dear JRR Jr. the Fourth has been taken back to the ward for the day and would I care to send a small donation.

But all I hear in return is the sound of a seagull cawing, and waves crashing on a distant beach, followed by a long ‘peep’.

I take a deep breath.

‘This is Dr Lamb leaving a message for Mr Salty Bob. Salty, we were most impressed with your application, your track record as a mature student taking evening Runeology classes, and your epic poem written in Runes, ‘The Ode of Žałty’. I am pleased to confirm that we would like to offer you the job.’

I found my application at the bottom of the elephant foot wastepaper bin with stains from a discarded teabag smirching the pertinent points of my overqualification. Still, I can understand why a salty applicant might be deemed a more practical candidate.